Bread and Circuses
by FiggyPudding
Summary: A young woman's tribe is assimilated into the Legion, under the command of Caesar, the Lord of 38 tribes. While trying to navigate her harsh new reality as one slave amongst many, she soon finds herself embroiled in the scheming of Vulpes Inculta in his bid for power against Tacitus Emidus, both of whom stand to become the leader of the Legion's Frumentarii.
1. Chapter 1

**Bread and Circuses**

Bullworth Junction was not an impressive town. The only building that had stood against the bombs and desert decay in any real capacity was the old Piute County courthouse, an ugly red brick behemoth with boarded windows and a half-collapsed tower where the watch kept a lookout over the the rest of the town and the surrounding valley. Not that there was much to see. A handful of shacks and buildings of scavenged wood and metal from the destroyed houses that had once dotted the now barren landscape, and a fortified barrier made of whatever piled-on junk they had been able to find and drag into place; old husks of cars, loose fencing, stacked bricks, barbed cattlewire, and a few faded red signs that had been painted long ago with the word STOP had been attached to the gated main entry, just to drive the point home.

Bullworth Junction may not have been an impressive town, but it was a very impressive trash pile. The Broken Hooves were exceptionally proud of it.

It was their attempt at civilizing themselves, with a home and a sanctuary for the Broken Hooves and their brahmin. Here they would no longer be tribals, painting their faces and wandering at the mercy of the desert, but real townsfolk. Their territory now fairly bustled with men working the small fields, the brahmin herd and their new calves, and not to mention the vulnerable citizens and their children inside the walls. Bullworth Junction was their refuge. They had a place now that was all their own.

True, they had gained that home by driving out and killing the last tribe that they had found settled there, but that was so long ago that only the eldest could remember it now.

It didn't matter much one way or the other to Juniper how they had won Bullworth. It was theirs now, and it was no small amount of work to keep it running smoothely and securely.

She dressed herself in the morning light, dusty yellow beams filtering in through the cracks between the covered windows. Black curls were haphazardly shoved up into the confines of her hat, a tattered hand-me-down brahmin leather coat that was several sizes too big hung loosely from her bony shoulders, and a battered hunting rifle rattled in its straps upon her back as she stepped over the sleeping figures of the other girls and headed out the door.

"Morning, Juniper! Don't think I don't see you sneaking off." A voice hailed her from the main gate.

She meandered over to gaze up at the grinning face of the old man sitting in the guard post, folding her arms. "It's not sneaking off if I do it literally every single morning. I was going to see to the east rocks. Heard there were some geckos making the brahmin nervous. Any news?"

"One of the patrols picked off a few raiders over by the old motel road. Oh, and we have another caravaneer coming in today. Grandpa Lyle wants to make sure we're all playing nicey, as usual. So be back by high sun and put on your best face. Maybe you can charm them with your winning smile," he chuckled, causing the somber young woman's expression to twist into a downright scowl in reply.

"We're going to run out of brahmin at the rate he wants to sell them."

"Not our place to say, girl. High sun. Make sure you're back for your song and dance routine."

Juniper grunted in reply, perhaps a bit more scornfully than she meant, then gave the guard a little salute and slid open the gate, turning sideways to edge through before setting off towards the rising sun.

* * *

The eastern plains were quiet as ever, save for the distant lowing of the brahmin and the ever-present rattle of the desert breeze against the sand. She climbed up onto one of the rocky outcroppings, loaded her rifle, and leaned back against the stone, still retaining some of the nighttime chill even as the sun slithered ever higher into the sky.

It would be an hour or two until the disgusting lizards warmed themselves up enough to make an appearance.

It gave her some time to think and make plans.

She knew the patrol routes and hunting patterns of the Broken Hooves men, and though she would never be allowed to accompany them to the territory outskirts, she could at least manuever around them. She scouted alone, trailing far behind the men and picking off geckos, coyotes, scorpions, and very rarely, a bandit or hopeful brahmin rustler.

It was hardly comparable to the tales of the warriors, fighting off raiders and other tribals in magnificent hailstorms of bullets and blades, limping back to Bullworth coated in the blood of their enemies and boasting of their exploits and new scars.

Juniper had scars of her own, but not from protecting the village against marauding slavers. Hers were from slipping off rockfaces, wrestling with stubborn brahmin, and there was a particularly nice bite wound on one of her legs (Which she had lied about to the others, telling them that it was from fending off a vicious coyote when it was simply from playing a little too roughly with one of the village dogs).

Still, scouting was good work. It kept the pests at bay, and she'd often return with a nice trophy or two for her troubles. Sometimes a few juicy desert hares, or the pelt off a nightstalker, or the scaly leather hides of geckos...

Geckos...

She tilted back the brim of her hat, sighting down her rifle's scope. From another outcropping of boulders some distance away there was movement. A gecko lumbered up into view, shaking out its frills in the sun and glaring about warily as a slimy pink tongue flicked upward to lick over one of its eyeballs. She settled her crosshairs over its chest, but it moved just as her finger began to put pressure on the trigger, scuttling out of sight back between the rocks.

A few others of its kin were stirring, but they acted oddly. They would pop their heads out, sniffing and licking before vanishing once more. Something was making them wary. Juniper frowned to herself, aim darting from one to another. She was safely downwind and far away; surely they hadn't been able to sense her somehow. Something sure had them stirred up though. Even from her position, she could hear the gurgling chirps of their alarm trills, signaling to one another as they crowded around the den entrance, loath to venture out too far.

One of them, a large male judging by his coloring, finally limped forward ahead of the others, rearing upward on his hind legs and turning his head about before cooing to the others that it was safe. The younger geckos began to move towards him when a shot rang through the air and the top of their sire's head exploded, his body falling limply off the edge of the rock and rolling down the hill.

Juniper sighted down her rifle again and took another shot, a second gecko collapsing and thrashing violently in the sand as the others scattered, vanishing back between the boulders as their raucous shrieking faded away.

Grumbling to herself, she lowered her gun and approached the downed lizards, knitting her brow at what she saw. No wonder they had been so nervous. The older gecko had already been viciously wounded. It was covered in fresh slashes, too clean-edged to be anything other than a blade. A human blade. The blood had barely had time to dry around the wounds, and much of its hide was stained. Someone had fought with the beasts, and recently.

She rolled it over with the tip of her rifle, its limbs flopping uselessly and its head lolling back as she spotted a flicker of color between its jaws. Prying them open, she pulled out a sticky saliva-covered scrap of leather caught between its teeth, decorated with a few broken feathers of red and black.  
She hadn't heard of anyone else getting into any trouble with the geckos. And she had never seen any birds with black and red feathers. Perhaps she needed to ask some of the other hunters when she got back to Bullworth.

She needed to head back anyway, if she was going to make it there before noon. And no doubt Grandpa Lyle was going to have other things on his mind than who could have injured a few geckos.

"Ugh."

Flopping both of the dead beasts over her shoulders, she turned and began the descent back towards the valley. It would be a long walk. And she had much to think on.

* * *

"Juniper, there you are!"

"Grandpa Lyle was worried you weren't going to show up in time!"

"Ugh, you smell like sweat and dead geckos. We'll need some time to sort you out."

She had barely had time to slip back in through the gate before she was set upon by a gaggle of women, protesting weakly as the lizards were discarded by the guard post and she was shepherded back towards the women's quarters. There she was stripped of her coat and dirty clothes, her face wiped free of grime, and her head yanked one way and then another as two of the other girls fought to work combs through the mess of tangled curls on her head. And then it was back into that damned blue dress.

She hated that dress. It was a Pre-War dress, a dusty blue and printed with faded pink flowers, ratty and fraying at the seams. It hung on her oddly, accentuating all the worst parts of her, turning her into a scarecrow with scrapes on her legs and bony arms dangling out of puffy blue sleeves. But it was still a dress. Dresses were worn by the women of civilized folk, and that was, after all, what the Broken Hooves were.

Most of the other women seemed excited to wear them, at least. They took turns admiring themselves in the broken mirror on the wall, twirling in their skirts and striking the poses of civilized women trying to catch the eye of civilized men. Juniper couldn't fault them for it. There were very few things worth getting excited over out here, and they were so happy to be stuffed into dresses and paraded about as the fine civilized women of Bullworth Junction.

She did catch the eye of another young woman, wearing a faded pink and white checkered sundress with mismatched buttons, and the two shared a splendidly petulant roll of the eyes. Well, at least somebody else felt as silly as she did about this whole affair.

They all gathered out in the main square by the courthouse, and were soon greeted by the smiling face of Grandpa Lyle, clapping his hands together in approval. "Don't you all look wonderful today!"

Grandpa Lyle was not the oldest man in Bullworth Junction. He couldn't have been much older than 60. But to the Broken Hooves, he had gained Grandpa status even before his hair and beard had started to gray. He was everyone's Grandpa. He had probably been everyone's Grandpa even when he was in the springtime of youth. As far as Juniper knew, he might have been born as a Grandpa.

He was a scarred thing, having survived several challenges for his right as the Broken Hooves patriarch. He still bore several tattoos upon his weathered face and his left eye was faded and half blind. It made him look all the more ridiculous now that he was stuffed into an ill-fitted gray tweed suit, a tie wrapped around his neck and an oversized bowler hat perched at a rather jaunty angle on his head. Juniper had seen a drawing of a 'clown' before while reading an old book, and while she was not entirely sure what a clown was or what it did, she couldn't shake the feeling that that was what Grandpa Lyle reminded her of in his suit. A clown.

"Our caravaneer is scheduled to arrive this afternoon. You all did a wonderful job of making Bullworth Junction clean and beautiful and ready for our visitor," he said.

Juniper glanced about. The rubbish heaps that made up the walls had been tidied up, the sand path around town had been scraped, and the bones and blood around the fire pits had been cleaned away. Someone had even thought to hang up a few moth-eaten lengths of fabric in the courthouse window to serve as curtains. That was a nice touch.

"Now the leader of this caravan has promised us very good trade in return for our brahmin and goods; new guns and weapons for our warriors to better protect us, more food and clean water, supplies of medicine greater than our stores of root powder, and much more. That is, of course, assuming that we make good trade partners. So I want you all to look and be at your best when he arrives. Be polite, well-mannered, and..." He waved his hand for a few moments in the air blankly, trying to find the word. "Be cultured. Yes, cultured. Help us prove that the Broken Hooves are well worth the trek this far out to Bullworth Junction."

A scrawny arm lifted itself from the gaggle of dolled-up women in front of him. Grandpa Lyle sighed. "No, Juniper. You're staying in town today. Whatever it is, no."

"That's not what- I just wanted to know. What's his name?"

"Name?"

"Who's this caravan master? Just in case we need to address them?"

Grandpa Lyle frowned at her and reached into his pocket, glancing down and squinting his good eye at the yellowed paper in one hand just to double check one more time that everything was in order, that everything was ready. The handwriting was neat and tight, listing orders of possible goods, time of arrival, and very polite salutations. At the very bottom, signed in a tidy flourish, was the name.

"Mr. Fox."


	2. Chapter 2

He had arrived later that afternoon, right on schedule to the very minute. A hail had gone up from the watchtower, and very soon the fabled caravaneer and his guards had been spotted strolling up the road towards their town. An escort was sent to recieve them, and very soon the gates were opened and their visitor led inside.

Mr. Fox was an odd man. He was tall and too lithe, too sinewy, as if someone had taken his body at both ends and stretched him taut, his features sharp and feral. Even stranger was his complexion; he was so very pale, his hair so very fine and blonde that it was near white, and his eyes were vivid blue with tiny pinpricks of black at their centers. He was dressed nicely, but he looked very much at ease, removing his hat as a gesture of respect and holding it against his chest.

He was entirely different from the dark-eyed and sunburned populace they were used to seeing, and many of the Broken Hooves women were instantly smitten, whispering amongst themselves and tittering in little groups after he had passed by. A small group of children followed at a distance, daring each other to get closer.

At least it gave Juniper an easy excuse as to why she was tailing them. Everyone in the village was curious about this exotic stranger.

He was flanked by two other men, both of them enormous in height and stature and dressed in the leather armor so common to mercenary guards. Mr. Fox had evidently chosen well. His mercenaries were straight-backed and jumped to attention at his every word, their gloved hands always resting on the sheathed machetes at their belts. They seemed oddly tense for a visit to look at some brahmin, but perhaps that could simply be chalked up to being in a new place...and surrounded by numerous armed semi-tribals wherever they looked.

Mr. Fox had no such qualms. He walked in easy step alongside Grandpa Lyle, smiling steadily and laughing politely at his host's remarks and jokes. They had gone to survey the various brahmin herds surrounding Bullworth, and evidently the visit was going very well, if the greedy little smile on Grandpa Lyle's face was any indication.

Juniper tugged at the collar of her dress irritably, meandering closer as casually as possible as she trailed after them. There was nothing particularly noteworthy to listen to; haggling over herd prices, how many caps per shipment of leather, and something about Grandpa Lyle's favorite brahmin jerky recipe. Mr. Fox continued to smile and chuckle upon every cue, and all in all, there was nothing interesting about it at all. She finally glanced up when one of the guards suddenly cursed and fell behind the procession, pulling out his machete and using it to scrape at a wad of dog shit on his boot. The dull glint of the blade's worn metal caught her eye, and she was reminded of the deep slashing wounds on the geckos she had brought in from the east hills.

She coughed a little awkwardly as she sidled up to a safe distance away from him, looking up at the sky and then down to where he cleaned the blade with the edge of his coat. "That's a nice cutter you got there," she said in her very best conversational tone.

The man grunted.

"Er...I hope the trip out here was safe enough. Did you end up having to use it much?" She smiled.

He turned to eye her unkindly.

"We keep our territory pretty clear, but I'm sure you know about the dangers off the main roads. You know? Raiders, molerats, nightstalkers...geckos..."

No answer.

"It's just that I saw you arrive from the south, and this morning I was over towards the east and I found a few geckos... and some things..."

He looked up suddenly, still silent but his shoulders tensing and eyes narrowing.

"Wait, wha-"

He took a step towards her, and Juniper found herself backing away, a hand reaching instinctively towards where her rifle normally hung on her back.

"_Desino, Vibius!_"

A hissing command rang out from behind them, and the guard snapped to attention, chin lifted and arms by his side as Mr. Fox slithered out from between two shanties nearby. He was smiling, though it didn't reach his eyes as his gaze darted from his towering mercenary to the young woman in the blue dress. His voice, when he spoke, was oddly smooth and almost whisper-like. "You'll have to excuse him. He's not very good at dealing with...people."

He made a sharp motion with one hand, and Vibius nodded and strode off, leaving Juniper and Mr. Fox to stare at one another in such awkward silence that she almost wished the vicious guard would be ordered to come back. The pale-featured man looked her over in disinterested appraisal and cleared his throat gently. "I do not believe we have been introduced. I am Mr. Nicholas Fox."

"Ah...Juniper," she answered.

He stared at her as if waiting for her to continue, and she tried to think up some polite topic of conversation that would please Grandpa Lyle. Perhaps something about the weather, or the brahmin, or...

"You don't look like a Nicholas," she blurted out, wincing as the words left her mouth.

"Do I not?"

"Well...I mean..."

"It is still a sight better than being named after a shrub," he answered smoothly, smiling as evenly as ever. Juniper barely had time to even process the insult, and was ready to give the man a righteously indignant reply before he continued. "Mm. Perhaps I can be of assistance where my dear traveling companion was not. I overheard your concerns about geckos, was it?"

She cursed inwardly, regretting even bringing up the subject of the damned lizards. "I just saw he had a knife, sir. Big flat-bladed thing. I brought back some geckos from the eastern hills with slices on them, and thought maybe you had run into them."

The pale man smiled a little wider, almost unnervingly. "I see. Yes, I'm afraid we did run into some geckos on the road, and my men drove them back. I recall them running east. Was there...something amiss?"

Her mind raced back to that odd strip of hide with the black and red feathers in the gecko's jaws. Neither Mr. Fox nor his men were wearing red or black feathers.

"No, sir," she said.

"How fortuitous that you went and took care of that little problem for us, Juniper. I trust that you were more suitably attired at the time?"

He was mocking her. She pulled at the collar of her garment and was suddenly very much aware of her appearance. She was standing without a gun and without shoes, stuffed into a dress that pinched too high above her waist and hung shapelessly around her chest, with swollen blue sleeves and a billowing skirt that nearly swallowed her up. And all to impress the man before her, who looked the complete opposite of impressed.

She had been right about how foolish it all seemed. They were all clowns. Broken Hooves tribals playing at being civilized folk, dressing up in costumes and putting on a play for anyone who had enough coin to interest Grandpa Lyle. It was like when she had been a child and had put on her mother's clothes and played at being an adult for a few hours, before she became bored with it and ran off back to the fields. It was all a childish game. And they were surely not any better for it.

She found herself suddenly venomous about it all, and openly frowned at the man, trying to keep her voice airy and composed. "Of course, sir. I was glad that I could be of service to both you and my people. I hope Mr. Vibius doesn't mind that I finished what he could not?"

Mr. Fox smiled in clear amusement, adjusting his tie and hat. "Oh, I will make very sure to ask him, Miss Juniper. In fact, he might just b-"

"Mr. Fox!"

Grandpa Lyle was upon them both in two strides, suddenly wrapping a heavy arm around Juniper's narrow shoulders and shaking her gently in a way that could be interpreted as a very fond and somewhat dangerous warning. "Oh I see you've met our dear Juniper," he said. "One of the town girls, fancies herself a scout, don't you Juniper? Ha! Ha! She's full of stories, this one! I hope you two are getting along?" His grip tightened around her.

"Miss Juniper was kindly sharing her conversation and company with me," the pale man replied, "And I do hate to cut it short, most assuredly. But I think we have further business to discuss regarding your fine village and your herds, do we not? I believe the powers that I represent are going to be very pleased. If you would escort me back to the main hall, I'd like further words with you, Mr. Lyle."

Grandpa Lyle smiled so widely that Juniper was sure the corners of his mouth were meeting on the back of his head, and he all but shoved her away, going to wrap his arm around Mr. Fox's back in a far too friendly manner, leading him off towards the courthouse.

Juniper was left standing in the dust, feeling more ill at ease than she had ever been in her life.

* * *

Some hours later, as the sun began its retreat down the western horizon, Mr. Fox and his guards were striding towards the exit, despite Grandpa Lyle and several others pleading with them to stay the night. It had been so long since they had entertained guests, and most of the Broken Hooves were hoping to turn the visit into an excuse to celebrate.

"Please, it's no trouble at all. We have rooms prepared for you in the upper floor of the hall if you want them."

"Will you not stay even for a meal?"

"Yes, stay at least until morning? It's dangerous out there at night, even for your guards."

Mr. Fox politely declined them again and again as elegantly as possible, though he was clearly weary of it and his steps did not falter as he and his men neared the gate. His blue eyes flickered and caught sight of the black-curled girl in the ugly blue dress leaning on the side of the guard post. She did not look particularly happy to see him, and that seemed to make him all the more genial. "Ah, but I'm sure it is safe. I hear Miss Juniper here is hard at work to protect us all from the threat of a gecko invasion."

The men laughed and the girl bristled, moving upright to slink off, but he slid suddenly in front of her. "I would stay," he said, "Truly I would. But we need to be off on the road while it's cool enough to travel. I will send the terms you outlined to my employer, Mr. Lyle. I'm sure an equitable agreement can be reached."

He reached out, striking fast as a rattlesnake and taking up the girl's hand. Juniper looked undeniably startled, and only the presence of Grandpa Lyle and the other men of her tribe kept her from yanking it back out of his grip or sending it across the fox's face for his assumptions. Instead her posture went stiff and she watched in a tensely docile way as he lifted it nearly to his lips, his fingers wrapped around hers, his other hand pressing his hat to his chest.

"Forgive my little joke, Miss Juniper. It has been a pleasure making your acquaintance. And I am sure that we will be meeting again...very soon."  
With that, he dropped her hand and turned on his heel, vanishing through the exit as the metal gate slammed shut behind him.

* * *

Grandpa Lyle rubbed at his bearded face in a long-suffering way. He had only just had time to change out of his suit and into the more comfortable battered brahmin leather he favored, but hadn't even had time to enjoy it before he was set upon by the nattering harpy in the blue dress. He cast aside the strip of leather and fether adornments that she had thrust into his hands, placing a foot over it with some finality even as she scrambled to pull it out from under his boot.

"Grandpa Lyle, I am not joking!"

"I said that's enough, Juniper! For fuck's sake, girl. I know you are trying to be helpful, but listen to yourself."

Juniper tangled her hair in both hands. She knew she sounded mad. There were a million things that could have happened that could have landed those feathers in that beast's mouth. More than anything, it was Vibius's aggression and Mr. Fox's downright odd demeanor that had set her off about it.

Grandpa Lyle placed a scarred hand on her shoulder. "I'm not trying to patronize you, Juniper, but you're wound too tight about it all. We need this trade to go through. Now I want you to go back to your quarters and try to get some sleep. And I want you in the west field tomorrow to help with the brahmin. I've heard e-fucking-nough about the geckos."

"If you would at least just send out a patrol-"

"I will consider it in the morning. Good night, Juniper."

Grandpa Lyle turned and made his way up the courthouse stairs. It was no use pursuing the matter further. Juniper lowered her head and uttered a shuddering sigh, pulling at the collar of her dress. She made her way back towards the girls' bungalow and her bed, slinking past the groups of laughing, chattering women sitting outside.

For a time there was nothing but sullen and thoughtful silence, and then the unmistakable sounds of ripping blue fabric.

* * *

Several miles away, after being sure that the Broken Hooves had not sent anyone to tail them, the path of Mr. Fox and his men turned abruptly from south to east. Traveling over dunes and into the rocky hills, it took them nearly half the night to finally reach their camp, nestled in a deep gorge away from the territory patrols of the nearby tribals.

Most of the Legion's soldiers were asleep, packed in tightly beneath tattered red cloth tents, or sprawled out in the cooler night air. Those of rank, however, were gathered around the fire, lifting to their feet and saluting as the three figures skulked in from the surrounding darkness.

"Vale!"

The pale-featured man nodded in passing, but lost no time in ridding himself of his disguise, meandering over to his tent and carefully pulling off the business suit, shoes, tie and hat, folding them neatly in case of further use before putting them away. In private, he allowed himself a sigh of relief. The profligate suits with their layers of undergarments and constricting trousers were as uncomfortable on him as they had been on the tribals. He simply knew how to bear the discomfort better. He emerged moments later, dressed back in his armor of leather and scarlet, taking his place in the circle around the fire.

A Legion Primus offered them each a plate of food."How did things go with the Broken Hooves?"

Vibius had also shed himself of his mercenary disguise and sported the red and black feathered helm of his rank, though it was missing several of its decorative plumes, and was ravenously tucking into a meal of beans and stewed molerat, looking as temperamental as ever. "Fucking embarrasments, even for dissolutes. They'd all dressed up in Old World suits and dresses like Inculta there, and the old fart in the gray suit, their leader... Goddamn, I think he would have led a song and dance number for us if he thought it would sell the brahmin quicker."

His fellow Decanus nodded thoughtfully. "I almost hoped one of them would start something, at least to regain some fucking dignity."

Vibius snorted and spat into the fire. "Speaking of starting something...there was that bitch with the black hair, looked like she'll need the sass fucked out of her at some point. Said she'd been poking around near here. I was going to deal with her before Inculta stepped in and started flirting."

"What do you mean, she was poking around here? The hell is that, Vulpes?"

Vulpes speared a stringy section of meat, calmly chewing and swallowing before answering. "She knows nothing. I pressed her a bit on the issue, and the extent of her knowledge was that we had had sliced up that group of geckos near here. Presumably with the one that tried to bite your head off, Vibius."

The Decanus grumbled and reached up to the spot where the beast's teeth had scraped his helmet, making off with several of his prized red and black feathers. "Fuckin' thing."

"Regardless. Their patriarch, embarrassingly eager as he was to make the sale, is not the sort to give up his tribe easily. Their village is full of healthy women and children, and that number of brahmin will feed the Legion for months."

"I can send word back to the Legate that we'll have them by the end of this week. There's a contubernium that should be traveling nearby, and should join up with us after-"

"That will not be necessary. If that girl is lingering around their eastern border, there's a chance she could rouse enough suspicion for one of their patrols to stumble upon us here. Caesar does not need to hear of us sustaining losses or losing viable slave stock because of a few geckos. Their leader was kind enough to tell me a few interest bits of information about their patrol routes, and there are numerous weak areas in their defenses. Our current numbers will suffice."

There was a round of murmuring from the group around the fire.

"It's our fucking hides if we fail."

"We only have two contubernia here. Their fighters outtnumber us twice over."

"Caesar wants new stock, and the Broken Hooves warriors are pushovers compared to the northern tribes. We can take them out."

Vibius set his plate aside, flexing his broad shoulders and cracking his neck. "For the first time on this miserable fucking trip, I like the way this is going. Forget the disguises. The recruits are damn well itching for this raid. When do we want them ready?"

Vulpes stood, pulling the mongrel's pelt headdress over his head. "As I said, I am more than confident that our numbers will suffice. Decanii, meet me in my tent and we will go over the best routes to the center of Junction. Primus, go and wake the rest and make sure that all preparations are properly seen to."

"Ita vero."

"Very good. Let us begin, then. I want all of your men ready by morning."


End file.
